Pumpkin-Sage Scones and Psycho

Happy Halloween!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. Even if you pretend there is nothing special about this night, even if you go about your daily business, you can just feel the aura of mystery crackling in the air. Most everyone now knows that Halloween comes from Samhain, the old Celtic holiday dedicated to honoring the dead. I love the sublime sense of spookiness that envelopes Halloween night: the out-of-the-ordinary sensation that hits you when masked goblins and witches show up at your door. The way the dark night seems especially still, as if all the secrets and spirits of time past are suspended in the atmosphere. The flickering orange glow of jack-o-lanterns, which are perched upon windows like sentries standing a solemn vigil. And, of course, honoring the life, death, and rebirth of the Earth by cooking with late-harvest food. Like pumpkin.

It's also a modern Halloween tradition to scare yourself silly with horror movies. I'm not a fan of horror movies, as I happen to be really squeamish, but I make an exception for the classic flick Psycho, helmed by none other than the Master of Suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock. I love everything about this movie, from the characterizations to the retro-hip low-budget look, but most of all I love how Hitchcock made the film so scary without showing a lot. A lesson many modern horror directors should learn? You decide. But now enjoy Dan's thoughts:

Pyscho


The most amazing thing about Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is its simplicity. Everything that could be considered a production value-splurge exists only to create atmosphere and never extravagance. Although Hitchcock had been making color movies since 1948's Rope and used them to great effect in The Trouble with Harry, he knew the best way to shoot Psycho was in black-and-white. The infamous shower scene was behind this decision. Red blood is just plain gruesome. Suggested blood is far more nuanced and, ultimately, shocking. Indeed, much of the film is suggestion rather than explanation. The misunderstanding of this or the importance of black-and-white were the two most blatant mistakes in Gus Van Sant's garish remake. The Bates Motel, where weary traveler Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) meets her untimely demise, is only as dark and gothic as the secret its scrawny and creepy manager (Anthony Perkins, in the role that immortalized him) harbors in the house atop the hill.

If you've conversed with me long enough about film you know that Vertigo is my favorite Hitchcock movie, but Psycho is the one that best justifies his title as "Master of Suspense." It works almost flawlessly, the extraneous explanation at the end notwithstanding. The key to Psycho's success is how joyfully it pops each cliche it presents. Norman is hardly intimidating, not even when Marion upsets him when she mentions his dear mother might do better in a mental institution. The motel itself looks more disturbing than frightening. One of the heroes, or rather, one of the protagonists (since heroism is not celebrated in this movie) was first seen breaking the old Production Code taboo of premarital intercourse. In fact, Psycho, Some Like it Hot, and The Apartment are often labeled as the three films which brought down the Production Code. The lead character, in whom we invest so much, is knocked off before half the movie is over and, finally, motherly love has never been quite like this.

Best scene? Possibly the lead-up to the first murder. Hitchcock was by now so masterful at creating suspense that each cue--the silence, Marion's solitude, the abandoned motel--all spell doom. Our anticipation is rewarded when we see a foggy figure through the shower curtain opening the door and moving towards the shower. The curtain is pulled...and the rest is history!

*Shiver.* It's a classic. Thanks, Dan! Now for the recipe.

These pumpkin-sage scones were scarily good. They came from my trusty Baking: A Commonsense Guide book. Soft, buttery, with the perfect blend of creamy pumpkin and tangy sage...mmmm. Definitely more of a treat than a trick. They were devoured in a very short time. But enough of words! I bet you want the recipe, so here it is:

Pumpkin-Sage Scones
Adapted from Baking: A Commonsense Guide 
Ingredients:

• 2 cups self-rising flour
• 1 cup canned pumpkin
• 3/4 oz butter
• 1 Tbsp chopped sage
• 1-2 tsps milk

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a baking tray with parchment paper. 
2. Sift the flour into a bowl along with a pinch of salt. Rub the pumpkin and butter into the flour using your fingertips. Stir in the sage.
3. Add the milk to make the mixture smooth and cohesive. Place the mixture on the tray. Shape it into a ball and roll it out until it is about 1 1/4-in. thick.
4. Cut the top of the round into eight segments (do not cut too deeply into it). Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until lightly browned and cooked through. Serve warm.

Next time: World War II Applesauce Cupcakes and Saving Private Ryan

Double Apple Strudel and Inglourious Basterds

October is here! I am full of excitement. This is the month of spooky stories, golden late-afternoon sunlight pouring through flaming trees, and dark, still nights when you can practically feel the spirits that supposedly walk the Earth on Halloween surrounding you. In terms of baking, though, do you know what I love best about October? APPLES! Apple season is largely in September in my part of New England, and during the month of October I love to think of new recipes featuring the fruit I harvested the past month. I went apple picking last Thursday, September 29th, a date which coincidentally contains two apple-related holidays this year: Michaelmas (an old European harvest festival honoring St. Michael the Archangel) and Rosh Hashana (the Jewish new year, where apples and honey are eaten to ensure a sweet year). It rained that day, but I had a ton of fun scampering through the misty fields with my family, picking the juiciest-looking apples and enjoying cider donuts in the farm's rustic wooden kitchen. No other fruit says harvest or autumn to me quite like apples.

I decided to make an apple strudel to honor my favorite fall fruit. And I can think of only one movie that suitably displays this recipe: Quentin Tarantino's Oscar-nominated epic Inglourious Basterds. That film, if you remember, showcased a absolutely delicious strudel in a scene which otherwise radiated with suspense and apprehension. Inglourious Basterds is one of my favorite films. I didn't think that I would like it, because I am very squeamish when it comes to blood (I once had to leave my sixth-grade classroom because we were watching a documentary about prehistoric animals attacking each other. It was embarrassing), but Tarantino doesn't rely on violence as much in Inglourious Basterds as he does on clever conversations regarding how cinema distorts images of war. I know some people had problems with the film's historically inaccurate ending, but Inglourious Basterds is supposed to be a fable, a revenge fantasy. I think Tarantino has made an excellent movie about World War II movies. Here are Dan's thoughts.

Inglourious Basterds


Think of The Dirty Dozen as only Quentin Tarantino could see it and you have Inglourious Basterds, an ingenious reimagining of WWII which ends the way many wish it could have. Yes, Inglourious Basterds is fantasy wish-fulfillment in the same way that the flag-waving cartoons from the era were. But it's much more than that and what makes the movie so special is precisely its untidy category.

It's easier to say what the film is not and that is a war picture, at least not in the strictest sense of the word. There are no battle scenes and minimal geopolitical babble. Instead, it focuses on the individuality of the characters and it's one of the first movies about WWII in which I can boldly remember the names and personalities of the characters.

Of course, no one who sees Brad Pitt's Lt. Aldo Raine could forget this grizzled war maverick. A renegade who wears his Appalachian origin and Native American heritage on his sleeve, Raine fights his own war and organizes a Nazi hunt employing a motley crew of Jewish-American soldiers who are ordered to find Nazis and bring back their scalps.

This would be enough to satisfy any movie and it did once, the aforementioned The Dirty Dozen. But if you know Tarantino you know his movies are layered labyrinths with no one character hogging the spotlight. Predominant in our memories is Christoph Waltz as the despicable Col. Hans Landa, nicknamed "the Jew Hunter." He is a snake with slow-killing poison. He not only kills but seems to enjoy tormenting his victims. So horrifying is this character, made especially frightening by Waltz's brilliant performance, that his final comeuppance actually leaves us wanting more. It comes in the hands not only of the titular Basterds, but also with the help of a young woman (Melanie Laurent) who lost her family to Landa's men.

Revenge is sweet. But since Tarantino has made it one of the major themes in his canon of work, it has also become fascinating and Laurent's revenge on the Third Reich is an ingenious scheme with gripping suspenseful moments. And because this is under the direction of the most brilliant movie junkie in the world, you can be sure it will contain references to films as far-out as The Wizard of Oz. Oh, and if the alternate history presented here troubles you, there are many other explanations drawn from real-known facts to make the ending more compatible with the history books. So do yourself a favor and enjoy Inglourious Basterds. It's in many ways Quentin Tarantino's magnum opus and, ironically enough, the more you know about WWII the more fun you are bound to have.

Thanks, Dan! And now for the strudel.

This apple strudel came from The Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook. Whoever says diet recipes are blah will eat their words (ha ha) after they try this strudel. Trust me, while it doesn't look as pretty as the strudel in Inglourious Basterds, it is delicious. I have never tried a better strudel in my life. I don't know what gave it the extra-oomph, if it was the dried apples that were added along to the fresh apples or the gingersnap cookie crust. I just know that it was delectable. My family bemoaned its loss. So if you're going to watch Inglourious Basterds, make sure that you make this strudel first to accompany it. It's a must.

Double Apple Strudel
Adapted from Weight Watchers: The New Complete Cookbook 
Ingredients:

• 3 apples, peeled, cored, and diced
• 18 slices coarsely chopped dried apple
• 1/4 cup + 2 Tbsp. dark raisins
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 2 Tbsp. cornstarch
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 3/4 cup walnuts
• 4 gingersnap cookies
• 3 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
• 12 sheets phyllo dough, room temperature

1) To make the filling, combine the apples, dried apple, raisins, sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and water in a large nonstick skillet. Cook, covered, stirring occasionally until the apples tenderize and the mixture becomes thick. Stir in the vanilla. Let the mixture cool completely.

2) In a blender, combine the walnuts and gingersnap cookies until they resemble crumbs.

3) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Spray a big cookie pan with nonstick spray. Reserve 2 tsp. of the melted butter for later. Place a sheet of phyllo dough on a dry towel (keep the remaining phyllo covered with a damp towel). Brush the sheet lightly with a little bit of butter. Top with another sheet of phyllo. Brush that sheet lightly with a little bit of butter, then sprinkle with 1 Tbsp. of the crumbs. Repeat this using all of the phyllo sheets, crumb mixture, and butter, ending with the phyllo.

4) Spoon the apple filling over the phyllo, making sure to leave a 2-in. border. Starting at the wide end, and using the towel to help you, roll the strudel jelly-roll style, making sure the filling is enclosed. Place seam-side down on the pan and brush the top with the reserved 2 tsp. of butter. Make 11 shallow cuts through the top layers of the phyllo dough, being careful not to cut down into the filling. Baking 40-45 minutes or until golden. Cool for at least 10 minutes. Cut at the scored sections.

Next week: Not sure yet, but something involving pumpkin and a Halloween-themed film